


The Deepest Hold

by HermitLibrary_Archivist



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: F/F, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-26
Updated: 2008-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:37:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4884034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermitLibrary_Archivist/pseuds/HermitLibrary_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Viv Martella's Ghost</p>
<p>Jenna lets the outside in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Deepest Hold

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Judith and Aralias, the archivists: This story was originally archived at [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Hermit_Library), which was closed due to maintenance costs and lack of time. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2015. We posted announcements about the move and emailed authors as we imported, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hermitlibrary/profile). 
> 
> This work has been backdated to 26th of May 2008, which is the last date the Hermit.org archive was updated, not the date this fic was written. In some cases, fics can be dated more precisely by searching for the zine they were originally published in on [Fanlore](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Main_Page).
> 
> **Original Author's Notes:**
> 
> Previously also archived at martellas_ghost

It's a smuggler thing.  
  
The most precious cargo is always stowed in the deepest hold. It's disguised with dirt and cheap packaging and left lying about, casually, like a misplaced tool or forgotten junk, where anyone may find it but none will recognise it. None will touch it. None but the cleverest will bruise or steal it.  
  
At first, with Blake, she feared she'd exposed it. The Stannis cool blistered with the sudden unexpected urge to change her life. Unlike her, Blake lived on the outside, his precious cargo announced to any who'd listen: "This is what I carry!" he claimed, holding his fist high, and clasping inside it - nothing.  Nothing but hope. And as Avon rolled his eyes and walked away, she stood transfixed. Feeling naked but proud, an inspired and willing dupe.  
  
Then it was Zen, flooding the aqueducts of her mind, ripping through greasy locks, barred doors, nailed half-rotted crates to touch her guarded core. The raw precious thing that was herself, stowed. Like creeping fingers reaching for her heart. Like Blake's lounging confidence oozing sex black as bile. Like -  
  
<<Jenna.>>  
  
It still made her flinch.  
  
So intimate, delicate, a word spoken in a bubble and blown to her intact. Uncorrupted by impact with other ears, with air. Like innocence.  
  
She released the drivers. "Zen, switch to automatics."  
  
"Confirmed."  
  
She turned from the console to the doorway, eyebrow and pout prepared. Cally smiled back. And then there was another word bubble, but no word in it. Merely a spreading warmth and fire in her mind. A telepathic lick.  
  
"Mm," hummed Jenna.  
  
"I do not wish to interrupt you," said Cally aloud.  
  
"Don't worry.  You're not," Jenna replied, stepping down from the pilot's seat.  
  
"I know how you value your time piloting Liberator. I too spend value time spent practising my skills."  
  
Jenna laughed.  
  
"If you were anyone else I'd take that for a line."  
  
She leaned back against Vila's console, hands on hips, eyebrow in position and eyes twinkling. Cally stood awkwardly before her - so competently physical when anyone was ill, but so desperately hopeless at flirtation.  
  
"I wondered if the mutoid had hurt you. You fought well but she almost overpowered you."  
  
"Yes, it was rather a close encounter."  Jenna took Cally's hand, turned the wrist upwards and made a circle there with her fingertip.  "She had a sort of wrist proboscis for drinking blood.  Did you see it?  I would have been pierced, drained and killed."  
  
Cally's steady eyes looked at her. "Not a pleasant death."  
  
"No," agreed Jenna, unsure. The mutoid's gaze had been cold, but hungry. She'd wanted to taste the deep, deep inside of Jenna, and Jenna had almost let her. She had two instincts when the mutoid extended her feeder; to fight back was the second. That was new.  
  
Cally unfolded her hand to clasp Jenna's fingers. Like Blake, she lived her life on the outside. Her eyes smiled.  
  
<<I am glad she did not succeed.>>  
  
The surge of warmth, the fire again. Flickering into the darkest hold.  
  
"Thanks," purred Jenna, and kissed her.  
  
She was learning not to panic when it happened. She was learning to like it.


End file.
